A Song of Phoenix Fire
by DC-MarvelGirl 1997
Summary: Scott Summers has been legal ward to Ned Stark since he was a child upon losing his parents and brother. Now, with Ned's niece, Jean Grey, having an arrival, how will this change the course of things for the Stark Family?


_**A/N: **_

_**This here is just a fun little experiment that I decided to come up with, given that now, my current favorite book series to read is "Game of Thrones." I recently got the complete novel series for my birthday, and it inspired me to want to do this to an extent. This is my interpretation of the X-Men in the same universe as "Game of Thrones." **_

_**Now, keep in mind, this first chapter here is just an experiment. If I get a good response for it, I might write another chapter. However, I'm also putting focus into my other X-Men stories including The Evolution Project, as well as the Avengers-X-Men crossover Peace in Our Time which is being written in collaboration with MarvelMaster616. If you wish to, you may support me over there on those projects. Peace in Our Time is currently on volume 2 with character reflections being planned for volume 2 once it is completed. **_

_**Be sure to REVIEW, follow, favor, and tell me what you all think!**_

_**Excelsior, everyone!**_

_**DC-MarvelGirl 1997**_

_**Now, enjoy A Song of Phoenix Fire!**_

* * *

_**Arya**_

Her blue eyes blazed penetratingly as she focused intently on her needle work, her fingers seemingly made of something fine as she sewed. She smiled intently as Septa Mordain came forth to inspect her work.

"Such stunning, exquisite work, Lady Sansa! Well done," Septa praised, smiling as she glanced down at thirteen-year-old Sansa's work.

"Thank you," Sansa said with a gracious smile.

As Sansa turned into the direction of her best friend, Jeyne, Septa noticed the less than imperfect stitch-work of the youngest Stark sister.

"Oh, heavens no, Lady Arya. This would not do," Septa scolded, shaking her head.

Ten-year-old Arya glanced up. Her grey eyes withheld a bitterness and cynicism as she glared enviously at her older sister's needlework. However, her attention soon turned from the task at hand, to what was occurring outside. The boys were practicing sword fighting, and archery. Somehow, the urgency that she felt within her to join in burned a lot stronger the longer she sat there. She couldn't help but glance towards the window, then shift over to glare enviously at Sansa.

Sansa . . . the pretentious perfectionist who just simply had to be good at everything. Sansa could sing. She could dance. She could sew. She could paint. Add to that, she was beautiful. Unlike Arya, Sansa had inherited their mother's looks, as did the rest of their brothers. That made Arya, and their bastardly half-brother, Jon Snow, the exceptions. Sansa, Bran, Rickon, and Robb all inherited their mother, Catelyn's auburn hair and soft blue eyes. Arya and Jon, on the other hand, had their father's features. Arya and Jon had the long faces, grey eyes, and dark hair that did not seem to want to stay combed down. More often than not, Arya found she was consistently, snidely nicknamed "Arya Horseface" by the likes of Sansa's friend, Jeyne.

However, Sansa was too busy giggling softly with Jeyne to notice Arya sneaking off to go to where the boys were outside. Knowing Sansa, for all Arya knew, her sister was fantasizing about the arrival of Joffrey Baratheon, who would be arriving with his father who ruled Kingslanding. For Arya, on the other hand, she couldn't care less about it.

Arya quickly snuck her way outside, slickly. In the wings, she could see her mother, Catelyn, was observing Bran's training underneath Robb and Theon Greyjoy. Her eyes widened in fascination.

This for her was far more interesting than sewing, where her sister consistently proved to one-up her in every capacity.

Watching Bran duel Theon in a sword fight, she could see off to the side was baby Rickon, who was four years old, being doted on by Catelyn. However, off in the distance, she could hear horses whining as they arrived closer to Winterfell.

Arya's father, Eddard, had arrived back home from his duties, along with Jon, as well as his ward, Scott Summers.

Scott Summers had been the son of one of Eddard's oldest friends, Christopher Summers. Unfortunately, Christopher had died in battle, leaving Scott in Eddard's care. As a result, along with Theon, Scott was viewed as a son in the eyes of Catelyn and Eddard. However, in many ways, he was closer to Robb, Jon, Arya, and Theon than he was with the others. Arya ran up as the men dismounted their horses. Sansa went running out and up to them, along with Bran, Robb, and little Rickon.

"Father," Sansa said politely. Her eyes however showed a little disdain for Jon's presence. He was a bastard, her _half-_brother. In her eyes, he wasn't a Stark. He never would ever be a Stark.

Ned looked at his children before they all noticed a small bundle resting in the arms of Scott and Jon.

"What is that?" asked Arya

Scott lowered his arms, revealing what was wrapped in the blankets. They were tiny wolf pups, howling and whimpering softly. They ranged in color of soft grey to dark grey.

Arya's eyes went wide as she looked at the dark grey pup resting in Scott's arms, petting its head. The pup turned up to look towards her, as though it yearned for more contact from her.

"Where did you find them?" Sansa asked, taking the smallest – and prettiest – wolf pup from Jon. It nuzzled into her touch and sniffed her slightly before kissing her.

"Direwolf pups," Scott explained, passing one to Robb. "We found them, as we were at our post. It was Jon's suggestion we keep them. After all, the direwolf is the Stark family symbol."

"So, they're ours?" asked Rickon, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Indeed," Ned said.

Arya took the one she claimed hers from Scott's arms. Rickon also claimed his, and then Bran. However, they noticed Jon was holding an albino one, with red eyes. Scott's was resting comfortably, seeming to fit perfectly there in his hold.

Sansa gently cradled the littlest one, staring down at it intently as she cradled it like a baby in her arms.

"Lady," she whispered. The pup seemed delighted by the name chosen, as it seemed to snuggle closer to her.

Arya's direwolf pup nibbled at her fingers affectionately as she scratched its head with soft hands – as soft as her hands could be. The children proceeded to head off into the house to decide on the names they would give their direwolves. However, Scott turned to face Jon, whose Albino direwolf was staring intently. Its red eyes made it a black sheep among the litter of grey brothers and sisters.

Scott couldn't begin to imagine why Jon selected the name "Ghost" for his direwolf. Scott's was blind in its right eye, making the name "Cyclops" appropriate for his direwolf. However, the demeanor shifted as Ned was gestured by Catelyn to come to their bedroom. Nonetheless, Scott and Jon's attention was on Arya, who was sitting outside and away from the rest of her siblings.

Much like Jon, Arya was a black sheep in her own right. Having been cursed with her father's masculine features over her mother's feminine Tully features had always made her feel she might be a bastard herself. Scott and Jon both moved to sit by her.

"Shouldn't you be inside with the others?" asked Scott as he kept his own direwolf pup resting in his arms. The pup let out a low, whining howl.

"I've been crammed in there all morning," Arya said, rolling her eyes slightly. "Trust me; I'd take death at the hands of a most deadly poison than needing to deal with Sansa being insufferable."

"Hey, do not say that," Scott said sternly. "That's your sister, alright? At least act like you love each other. Because you know my brother is no longer here."

Arya nodded, her face burning in shame. She knew that Scott's older brother, Alexander, had died in the same battle as his father had. Their mother had passed away from scarlet fever years before Scott could even know her. So, when Scott's late father and brother entrusted Ned to look after him, Scott had become like family in more ways than one. His blue eyes held a stern look as he looked at his "little sister".

"And so therefore, I do not wish to see any of that," Scott added in.

Arya nodded again. Though she couldn't help but look towards Jon as she said, "You're more a sibling to me than Sansa ever has been."

"I'm your _half_-sibling," Jon corrected her, remembering Catelyn and Sansa's disdain for him being the bastard son of Eddard Stark. "I'm not a Stark."

"Funny. You always _have _been to me," Arya pointed out.

Jon smiled down at her. Not many could compare to Arya. "I know, little sister," he said to her with an affectionate smile.

* * *

_**Catelyn**_

Catelyn Stark – formerly known as Tully – was a woman who knew what she was marrying into when she married Eddard Stark. Nonetheless, it hadn't initially been that way. She was initially supposed to be betrothed to Ned's brother Brandon. But upon his passing, she was betrothed to the next of kin, that being Ned.

Nonetheless, the Stark family's biggest disgrace was that Ned had gotten a woman pregnant out of wedlock, leading to the birth of Jon Snow. In many ways, Catelyn didn't consider Jon to be hers. He was more so Ned's than hers.

"Cat, what is it that you wish to tell me?" Ned asked as he kept his wife in his arms.

Catelyn could feel her eyes misting over as she thought on the news she'd received while Ned, Jon, and Scott had been out fulfilling their duties outside the Wall. It was devastating news that she had yet to share with the children. This was especially considering what it was regarding.

"Ned," she whispered. "It's my sister, Elaine, and her husband," she managed to get out.

"What about them, dear?" asked Ned.

"They –" Catelyn managed to get out. "They recently passed on. Lord, what in the heavens is going to happen? First, it was my brother-in-law, now my other sister . . ."

"So this means . . .?" Ned began to ask.

"Yes, their daughter, our niece, Jean," Catelyn said, closing her eyes as she thought hard about her sixteen-year-old niece, who was the exact same age as Scott was.

Jean had inherited the looks of the Tullys – the auburn hair, the high cheekbones – but her eyes were her father, John's. They were a brilliant shade of pure green. Now, Jean was left an orphan, which left her to be in the care of next of kin.

Next of kin meaning the Stark family.

"What in heaven's name is this to mean, Ned?" she asked. "First, I get a letter from Lyssa stating her husband was murdered, by the Lannisters. Now, my other sister, Elaine, passes from such severe sickness. Add to that, the Baratheons will be arriving short of a few days from now. What is supposed to happen, now?"

"We do for Jean as we did for Scott, and for Theon. As for the arrival of the Baratheons, that's occurring. It's just a matter of who will be taking place as King's hand to Robert," Ned said.

"You know nonetheless, that Robert would want you to take my brother-in-law's place as hand to the king," Catelyn said with a sigh.

Suddenly, the wind outside seemed to howl as loud as that of a direwolf. They could see that a light snowfall was beginning to slowly fall, the brilliant white being something that always managed to bring forth comfort to the citizens of Winterfell.

"Winter is coming," whispered Ned as he stared out the window of his and Catelyn's bedroom.

"Indeed," whispered Catelyn.


End file.
